


Strawberry Kisses

by thekeyholder



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Picnics, Spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 07:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: Jim Gordon liked to think of himself as a strong-willed, even stubborn man, but it seemed that he could not always say no to criminals who looked prettily at him from under their eyelashes.Or the story of how Jim ends up going on a cute spring date with Oswald.





	Strawberry Kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [genmitsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/gifts).



> Another fic written on public transport, though luckily I didn't have to hide with this one as much. Hope you enjoy some fluff. Thank you to faerydae for her help and Nekomata58919 for the beta :)

Jim Gordon liked to think of himself as a strong-willed, even stubborn man, but it seemed that he could not always say no to criminals who looked prettily at him from under their eyelashes.

“Come on, Jim. You’re missing out on the few sunny days Gotham has to offer. A couple of hours away from the GCPD won’t kill you.”

Jim just rolled his eyes; although he wanted to go, he didn’t want to seem weak in front of his colleagues. Especially not in front of Harvey, who would tease him forever.

But Oswald didn't give up so easily; he kept sending Jim texts and pictures of blooming trees and sunshine, telling him that he needed to get out more. When Oswald finally called with the excuse to show Jim something important, the detective finally agreed to go to Oswald's club.

“You're going to Penguin’s?” Harvey asked, surprised.

“Yeah, he has some info about a case.”

“Ah huh. Sure,” Harvey said, not at all convinced, but luckily he didn't push it.

Oswald was waiting for Jim, greeting him with a broad smile. “So glad you made It, Jim. Come, we need to walk a bit.”

Of course, Jim knew that there was no information for a case, but he couldn't imagine what Oswald wanted. The gangster just smiled mysteriously as he took a basket from the counter and then led Jim behind the club and onto the next street. There seemed to be a small square with a garden in the middle, as if it had grown out of nowhere. Jim was quite sure he'd been on this street before, but he'd never noticed it.

“So what is this?” Jim asked, still vaguely suspicious, but intrigued.

Oswald touched the card to the key reader and opened the wrought iron gate with a smile. “A private garden. For the people in the neighbourhood.”

Jim took a few steps forward, the sound of children's laughter stunning him. There was a group of mothers sitting around the playground, two young women lying on a blanket and sunbathing and to the right, in the shade, several old men playing chess. All around the fences huge rose bushes and blooming trees were obstructing the view from the outside world, shielding the place from curious eyes.

It was like a paradise in the middle of the city.

“It's really pretty, isn't it?” Oswald asked, limping to the middle of the pasture, turning back with a smile. “Are you coming?”

Jim was still trying to comprehend the fact that such a beautiful place could exist in the middle of Gotham. Of course it wasn't Oswald's brilliant smile that made his whole body break out in goosebumps; no, it had to be the gentle breeze. He caught up with Oswald and then took the basket over from him, their fingers brushing in the process. “I’ll take it,” Jim said.

It was rather heavy, probably from a glass bottle he could see peeking out. Jim hoped it wasn't wine, because he really didn't need to get tipsy around Oswald.

“What do you say about that table under the tree?”

Jim nodded, following Oswald while looking around. The garden must have been rather old, the trees were huge and magnificent, spreading their branches in every direction. There was a very aristocratic air about the place; and though Jim had trouble imagining Oswald outside of fancy rooms, if there was one outdoor place that he’d fit into, it was this with its sublime elegance.

Placing the basket on the table, Jim sat on one of the benches uneasily, as if expecting an armed gang to suddenly spoil everyone's fun. Oswald started unpacking the things he brought, handing Jim a porcelain plate and real cutlery instead of plastic ones.

“Relax, Jim. It's your lunch break.”

The detective grimaced, but didn't say anything. Instead, he was preoccupied by all the food Oswald was putting on the table, making him wonder how it all fit in that basket. There was ham, salami, olives, various types of cheese, boiled eggs, bread, grapes and even some strawberries. The last item was a bottle of lemonade, which Jim gladly accepted a glass of.

Jim was sampling the food carefully. Not that he really believed that Oswald would poison him, that was an absurd thought, but the whole thing just seemed too nice to be true. He’d never had time for picnics, and certainly not with mobsters who looked at him like _that_.

“You should try this goat cheese with the grapes,” Oswald offered, tasting it himself.

Jim took one, out of politeness, but his eyes widened when he realised how good it was. “Tastes nice.”

Oswald smiled with satisfaction. “It's from a local farmer.”

“Thought so, it's too good to be from the store.”

“He used to be our neighbour when I was a child. Then later his family bought this farm just outside Gotham.”

“So a reliable source.”

“Oh yes. The best, too.”

Jim didn't think he deserved this feast. “Is everything else from farmers and such?”

“Mostly. I do try to source locally, it's always better and healthier. You should try too, you know. I wouldn’t mind sharing.”

Jim blushed, but whether it was from embarrassment about his unhealthy eating habits being called out or Oswald’s proposition, he didn’t know.

“I meant that we could meet… maybe once a week, when it’s not just about business. If your schedule allows it, of course,” Oswald added hurriedly, pretending to be looking at the various types of olives.

Jim noticed then that he hadn’t been thinking of work ever since he met Oswald. His head also wasn’t hurting anymore and his whole body felt relaxed, except for the butterflies that stirred in his stomach every time he looked at the gangster. “Yeah, that would be nice,” he replied and the smile Oswald shone at him, timid and yet so bright, convinced Jim that he did well, even though a small part of his brain was still trying to deter him from deepening this relationship.

Their discussion flowed more easily after that; Jim told Oswald about how his parents would sometimes take him and his brother on short road trips on Sundays, where they would just drive and then stop at a nice place and have a picnic. Sometimes his dad even made barbecue in the summer, while the boys played in the woods.

Oswald listened to Jim’s story with a delighted expression, then shared his own memories of the picnics his mother and her friends from the church used to have. They were boring for the other kids sometimes, but little Oswald enjoyed listening to all the gossip and eating as much strawberry cake as he wanted to.

“I’m afraid I have no cake now, but I brought these instead.” Oswald took the top off a plastic container, offering Jim beautiful strawberries. “They're really sweet.”

_Like you_ , Jim wanted to say, frowning at his own thought. What was wrong with him? Based on the previous dishes, the fruit was bound to be good as well, and besides, Jim hadn't had strawberries yet that year. Oswald was right, he needed to have a healthier diet, and definitely less junk food.

He bit into the fruit, the lovely taste exploding in his mouth. He was about to remark how good they were when he was interrupted by a moan. Oswald seemed to have got a particularly nice strawberry, juices running down his fingers. His tongue shot out and licked them clean, in the end releasing them with a loud pop.

Jim felt a tightness in his stomach, his skin suddenly flushed, as if he’d witnessed something sinful, though he couldn't tear his gaze away. This was too much. Jim would have believed that Oswald did it on purpose, but when the gangster looked up, he blushed and apologised as he noticed Jim watching him.

“Sorry. Would you like another one?”

Jim only accepted it so he could watch Oswald while he ate his. It seemed that for him this was a ritual, savouring every bite, closing his eyes with delight and sometimes even letting out a satisfied hum. Jim fidgeted on the bench, trying to stop his mind from imagining what else Oswald could lick, but to no avail.

His body felt like it was on fire, so Jim decided to take his suit jacket off. He didn't realise before that the sun could be so scorching in April. The breeze felt so much nicer against his chest, now that he only had the shirt on. Oswald's eyes were on him, very appreciative, and Jim blushed, pleased deep inside that Oswald was still looking at him like that, even after so many years. Was it vanity? Perhaps. But there was much more to it.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

Oswald agreed and Jim had the distinct feeling that he was supposed to offer his hand, maybe Oswald even expected him to, but his expression was serene, looking up at the sky with a smile.

“Do you come here often?” Jim hated how cliche he sounded, like a douchebag trying to pick up a chick in a club.

“Not as often as I would like to, but sometimes when I need a break and the weather is fine, I come here to relax. It's good to forget about the world beyond the walls.”

Jim nodded; he could completely understand the need to break away. Sometimes he wished he could escape Gotham, maybe not forever, only for a couple of days. “The best hiding place I could find in the GCPD is the archives in the basement. It's dark and dusty, but quiet. Nothing as nice as this place, though.”

“You know you can come here anytime, Jim,” Oswald said, putting his hand on Jim's arm. “Just come by the club and take the key.”

Jim was surprised that Oswald didn't make his own presence a requirement. “Thanks. We should have lunch together some other time.”

It was Oswald's turn to be surprised. He didn't say a word, just looked down with a smile, and squeezed Jim’s arm before letting go. A rush of warmth spread through Jim - it was usually Oswald who managed to surprise him, but now he did it finally and he cherished this feeling.

“Let's go get some ice cream,” Oswald suggested, his steps more vigorous.

He led Jim to the southern end of the garden where an ice cream vendor was serving two children. She smiled when she recognised Oswald.

“Hello there, Oswald. Long time no see.”

“Hi. Indeed. How are you, Gemma?”

“Everything's good. What can I get you today?”

Oswald ordered a pistachio soft serve ice cream while Jim perused the list, though in the end he went for the classic vanilla. It was really creamy and delicious, and Jim had to stop himself from devouring it at once.

Luckily, Oswald ate his ice cream with just as much gusto as he had the strawberries and Jim couldn't help but watch him, his lips parting with want. Oswald misunderstood his staring, though.

“Oh, would you like to try mine?”

Jim nodded dumbly, and then Oswald held his cone out for him. The detective leaned in and made a small lick, then looked up at Oswald as he sucked the tip of the ice cream into his mouth. The gangster became flushed, swallowing when Jim straightened his back and licked his lips.

“Very good.”

Oswald smiled, his cheeks still pink, and as they walked on the path lined by rose bushes, Jim thought Oswald had never looked better. Not that he hadn't realised before how beautiful Oswald was, but he never dared to admit it before just how tight his chest became whenever he laid eyes on the gangster. The relief that came with the freedom of admitting it was heady, and he struggled with not glancing at Oswald every five seconds.

At the end of the path they sat on a bench to finish their ice cream, watching some doves waddle through the grass. Everything was so green and fresh, Jim already felt reinvigorated and he looked at his last bit of cone with slight regret, wishing it would have lasted longer.

Oswald sighed contentedly as he finished his and leaned back on the bench with a smile, closing his eyes and turning his face upwards. He looked so happy, face glowing and unmarred by anger or concern, and Jim wanted it to last, wanted it to keep that expression with him forever. At the same time, the butterflies in his stomach multiplied and urged him to get closer.

Jim leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against Oswald, just a brief and delicate touch that sparked so much more. He leaned back, slightly nervous, but Oswald's smile widened. When he finally opened his eyes, Jim could see nothing but joy in them, so he leaned forward again, Oswald capturing his lips in a sweet kiss, Jim unable to stop himself from smiling. Oswald tasted of sunshine and strawberries.

“It's good to see you like this,” Oswald said, fingers brushing Jim's cheek, which turned pink under his touch.

It was all because of Oswald, of course, who had dragged him out of the shabby office and convinced him to enjoy the spring weather. It dawned on Jim then just how much Oswald had done for him, how much he cared.

Jim parted his lips, grateful, Oswald's tongue gently touching his, making Jim moan at the slightly cold touch. Oswald teased him, licking into his mouth and sucking on his bottom lip while he clutched at Jim’s shirt tightly. In the end, Oswald released his lips with a satisfying pop. The way he licked his own lips, as if he’d just tasted the most delicious thing in the world, sent a shiver down Jim’s spine.

“Thank you,” Jim said, though he wasn't sure what he was thanking him for.

“You're very welcome, detective,” Oswald said with a smile, placing his head on Jim's shoulder.

There was something very satisfying in that gesture - now Jim truly felt that it was a date and he nuzzled Oswald's hair, taking a deep breath. It smelled of peaches and Jim smiled into it, then pressed a kiss to the top of Oswald's head. It was a perfect moment and the detective never wanted it to end.

“I’m very glad you invited me.”

“I’m very glad you finally accepted,” Oswald said, looking up with an impish spark in his eyes.

Jim was about to kiss Oswald, mere inches between their lips, when his phone started ringing. He groaned as he looked at the display.

“Hey, Harv.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Although his voice sounded innocent, Jim could feel the smirk.

“Kind of. What happened?”

“Murder on Fullerton Avenue. Very fresh, the killer might be around.”

“Alright, I’ll meet you there in ten. Bye.”

“Work calling?” Oswald asked, sitting upright.

“Unfortunately. I have to go.”

“I’ll walk you to the car.”

Jim helped Oswald up, and didn't let go of his hand as they walked to the gate. Before leaving the magical garden, Jim cupped Oswald's face and kissed him goodbye, committing to memory Oswald's soft lips.

“Thanks for this. I didn't realise how much I needed it.”

Oswald opened his eyes, his look quite dazzled. “The lunch breakaway or… this?” he asked, pointing at the space between them.

“Both,” Jim replied and smiled as he got into his car.

“So we need to do it again, right?” Oswald asked with a raised brow.

“Of course. I’ll call you tonight.”

Jim watched Oswald in his rear view mirror until he had to turn to the right and he disappeared from view.

However, the gangster's strawberry kisses were etched into Jim’s mind and he definitely wanted more of them.


End file.
